45

oh my god.
where have you been all my life?
even in my sleep i can hear you breathe.

keep etching those scrapes.
i don't mind if you keep me up all night.

44

it's so windy out that my crane is waving back and forth
dangerously above a thousand pedestrians,
and 20 parked cars, waiting at the red light.

all these people,
with every step they pluck my veins full of regret.
they remind me of all the books i haven't read,
all the knowledge i wish i could already possess.
like i've said before, i'm so young
but also so old.

how many times have i walked down this street?
how many times have i breathed this tight air through my mouth?

365 by 17...18...19.........45.

there are so many things i want:
when i wake up, for you here instead of there,
when i'm aged, to be successful,
when i walk, to be safe and aware, from cranes a billion feet above my head.

i never thought i'd say this but
i'm getting tired of this view.

really? 365 by 17?
dear friend, it's been too long since i've counted my pathetic age in my head.

43

rip my eyes out again.

you finally understand now?
what you want will come much too soon,
are you sure you'll be ready?
if you blink you'll miss it.

then again, it doesn't matter if you understand.
the world will turn without you,
the crane outside my window will keep rotating at 3km per hour,
trees will fall,
the ground will crack,
and like ghosts they'll wrap their arms around you.

are you sure you'll be ready?
this embrace, (i know it well), is too tight to make you warm.

42

will somebody please dig me a hole?
i'm not strong enough to dig my own,
but i really need one to crawl in
to watch the clouds rotate.


i won't mind the earth scratching my body,
won't care if worms creep into my nose, and nest in my lungs.

at midnight i'll freeze in my sleep.
dream of wide beaches with white sand,
mountains with deep valleys,
oceans big enough to swallow ten thousand villagers alive.

in this hole you'll dig me,
in this house you'll build me,
in these eyes you'll give me,
i swear to fucking god,
i'll swallow the sun.

41

it's cute how you can flip me inside out,
wring out my misery,
and fold me back up as if i was born that way.

40

please pry me open with a crowbar,
dug straight down between my ribs.

peel my bones and veins away from my heart,
and wrap it in a ribbon, stained with love,
and the lyrics to your favourite acoustic song.

i'm convinced that if you do it,
i'll be able to live again.

try it, help me.
if it works,
then maybe this decomposing heart will heal,
or at least mask its odorous maggots.

39

perfect?
my friend, you do not know what perfection is.
through your pale eyes you only see what i want you to see.

i know well how to hide my imperfections,
all too well, my insecurities and mistakes.

i am going to be so, so sad
when my skin and bones turn into glass,
when you're able to see right through me
as if i'm illuminated from the inside out.

38

i don't know when i fell asleep,
but i know that i did at some point under the weight of your arms,
draped over my body like paperweights.

i'm sorry that my feet are frozen and numb.
who knows? maybe there is rotting wood in my heart,
hidden underneath muscle tissue and wrapped by my weak and dying bones.

you're so young and naive, but so am i.
i need someone to tell me what to do,
where to dive,
where to plant myself so that i can grow.

i can't decide what to think;
i was so tired when i woke up, and sad when you left.

when i tug at your skin in the night like a sleepless ghost,
tell me you'll be back soon.

37: what i am sorry for.

do you know what is sad?

there are so many people alive in the world,
but i don't even know a fraction.

light bent, sin cos tan, so much so much learning that i haven't done,
or knowledge i've forgotten.

it's only 7:12am and my crane is already turning for the day,
over cars on bloor street,
spraying black paint into the sky.
on days like these, i am sleepless.
my body begs for the cold to crawl under my eyes,
and to wait to be sewn shut.


i'm sick of hearing time ticking...
much too quiet now; jon birgisson should be sleeping too.

it's slowly getting so bright out,
i can't even keep my eyes open to see the sun rise.

36

i want to live next to you, in a bed of flowers.
where have you been?
this feeling of your eyes on me have been gone for too long.

the crane out my window is still turning,
this time for someone else.
people on the street are still crawling along the sidewalk,
this time to somewhere else.

it's scary to think they're alive and all over me.

you know, these arms are not machines but flesh and blood.
and these lips are part of my body, but i still hate to say it:

i miss you.

35

the ocean is not made of tears.
it has arms that embrace boats and ships;
a million people at a time.

in my dream, i hugged the ocean.
i jumped in its mouth and swam for years,
until my lungs disappeared,
until my fingers were numb in the morning.

the ocean is like seattle.
if i were brave enough, i could live there forever.
i'd always be alone though, but isn't that what i like?

34

can i peel your eyes open?
it's morning.
i'll spread your arms wide, and crawl inside your chest.
pull out all the sorrow in you,
and sprinkle it out the window, to be carried away by the wind.

i know you're sad and stressed.
keep sleeping it off.
then let me peel your eyes open.

look, it's morning!
it's another perfect day.

33

for the first time in so long,
i feel incredible.

now i know what an adrenaline rush is like,
and i'm pretty sure i'm hooked.

my blood is pumping to the beats of my favourite band,
and i am jumping around in my room, screaming the lyrics,
crashing into furniture,
flipping over tables. (i will regret this later.)

my keyboard fell over and crashed onto my head,
my chair flipped over my body, its legs stabbed into my stomach.
i am going to be so bruised tomorrow.

i don't care what happens to me,
i just want to have fun.
so come on baby, dance with me.

32

you're so little and cute and i am pretty sure i'm completely in love with you.

31

do you ever get the feeling of wanting to be hurt?

i want to be punched in the gut,
i want to get cut on my arms.
i want to fight back so hard that my knuckles bleed and my eyes blur and i want everything to spinspinspin spin around until it all becomes black and and spotted with white dots under my eyelids and and
i'll throw up my guts and pools of blood.

my lungs, my stomach, my heart.

i won't be able to breathe quite properly,
but i'll stumble away holding my stomach and the wall,
feeling nothing else but a little bit of defeat and a lot of victory.

30

i smell disgusting.
i cut my finger on a violin string.
but for a day full of let-downs, i am strangely content.


if you were here right now, snuggled up in blankets,
our faces lit up with a movie on my computer screen,
i'd probably tell you that i feel like water
and i'd pour myself all over you, little tree,
while wishing that you would grow into something i could love.

29

i wanted so badly to feel something.
so i pulled the blinds down halfway,
closed my door,
counted sheep, battled sleep.
lights off, i watched half of my movie alone on mute with my favourite song playing loudly on my speakers.

i'm addicted to the vibrations.
i'd live off it if i could. i'd swallow it all and feel it sink in my throat.



i feel shitty but that's fine.
i know i did this to myself.

28

it's orange and gorgeous again outside.
where have my glasses gone?

there are no plans for me to sleep tonight,
i will stay up, massage my headache away,
pluck the strings on my violin
to the sounds of my growling stomach.

i'll pretend i can hear my heartbeat,
and i'll try my hardest to stay in tempo.
no one will hear me, but i will.
right now, it's all that matters.


do you know what i mean?

27

the moon is low and big tonight
i can almost touch it.

is anybody else captured by the same beauty?
there must be someone.
please, i hope i'm not alone.

26

i saw you in my dream again last night.
what are the chances?
we spent what felt like days hiking up the fuji,
and pretended we were lost in the forests,
and drank the fog and mist.

and how strange is it,
that in my dream, at 6:50am (i looked at the watch on my wrist seconds before)
you whispered "look at the sky",
and at 6:50am (i checked at my alarm clock soon after),
i woke up suddenly with a jerk.

the sky, like spilled water colours, was dyed with a light bar of pink and purple.
it was so beautiful i could cry.
but my eyes were dry,
and my body was hot but all of a sudden i felt so cold.
there was nothing else to do but crawl back under my blanket.



i don't recall a second dream, but i am certain i fell asleep again.
all i remember was the wind coming through my window,
caressing my face,
begging me to get some rest.

25

elly comes into my room this morning
with tears dripping down her face
and her hair a mess.

i wanted to tell her that it's ok,
and that her boyfriend will be back real soon.
instead, i hugged her and brushed her hair with my fingers and told her to clean herself up.

it's ok if she thinks i don't understand
it's ok if she thinks i don't know what it feels like
to wake up alone,
feeling disgustingly empty
inside and out.

24: excerpt from a book

"i've got this theory. t's called the reinvention theory. this is how it goes. if you become somebody beat or fucked up then you will be unrecognizable to your parents and loved ones. they will beg you to change, but when they see you are genuinely a different person -- because maybe you've dyed your hair seven different colours or obtained your allowance from dirty-fingered old men in the street or put a ring through your pussy or tattooed milk fucking toast on your forehead or scarred your body on all the visible areas or yelled words like shit cunt pussy dyke faggot mail-oder bride, snuff flicks cock ring john homles is my dad or cut off your body parts and mailed them care of mom and dad -- then they'll realize how terribly sorry they are and they will kill themselves and leave you with all their money and a blackboard with i fucked your life written two million times in their own blood.

i think about going back sometimes. i'll pretend to sell jesus or some kind of magazine. they won't open the door, so i'll have to sneak my way through the radiator vents. my father will still be there with his newspaper, never changing out of that housecoat, my mother still clicking the remote, even after the batteries still run out.

they won't ever forget.

i ran to the door and looked up at the sky. the wind outside was fierce. it whipped. put holes in your body. hung you upside down.
sometimes you just have to do something.
it was easy. i opened the door. i closed the door.

know the best part? my house shrinking away behind me."

-mm '98

23

i'm sad and angry and frustrated and sad.
i want to tear a slit in the sky.
i want to sew my mouth shut.
i want to carve your words onto my bruised and cut up limbs,
and feel my blood rush out like water through a broken dam.

don't you understand?
what you want will come too soon,
much quicker than you had anticipated,
and by then it will be too late,
much too late for you to understand.

22

i enjoy the company of other people, so i constantly surround myself with them.

i hate sleeping alone most of all,
so it was a nice change to wake up with not one person,
but two people in the same room as you.

it's ok, though,
i'm glad i can fit you all in my head,
and i can take you with me anywhere, anytime.

i don't think i'm needy,
and it's ok if you don't understand me when i say
"i've just been so awfully lonely all this time."

21

these days i've been losing weight again;
my body is shrinking like a person would with old age.
i can feel my skin tightening around what little muscle i have,
wrapping strong around my bones,
pushing my ribs out for everyone to see.

i cannot fill my empty stomach, because it is not empty to me.
my organs are bloated,
they feel artificial inside me.
they must be an illusion; like purple gas in the shape of little girl parts, cultivating inside the envelope that is my frame...
again, wrapped tightly like a present,
tight skin, weak bones.

"i'm so sorry."

but i can fill my white empty walls,
and i have, with such beautiful artwork.

i just wanted you to know...
it was such a surprise waking up this morning,
my ribs stabbing into me,
the sun in my eyes,
and innocent japanese being eaten alive by a wave.

20

today i stood in front of the mirror, my body dripping rain.
i just stared and stared and stared,
watching droplets slide off the strands in my hair
catching them in my hand,
feeling them in my papercuts,
rubbing them into my dry, wrinkled palms.

i've been so thirsty, i realized
for beauty, that i've tried to see it in everything.
even in extremes, like a lost child's wail, a car crash, a family torn apart by war.

and now i know it doesn't work like that.
you can't look for beauty,
you have to stand terribly still and and and
don't even think about blinking!
you might just miss it.


but i need it now more than ever. something beautiful, that is.

this is my life...
i've always been thirsty, thirsty.

19: for myself

dear self, dear body,

when you're free, i'd like to spend the night with you again in seattle.
i'd take you to the fish market,
watch the young men throw a 30 pound salmon back and forth, like a ritual.
it's almost graceful,
and they'll look so at ease.

they are so used to it.

they're earning a handful of coins with each drop of sweat,
drops that we would later taste, dearest self, in our dinner, accompanied by a shiny glass of de-alcoholized champaigne.

maybe after that we can go to the beach.
do you remember that smell?
i know i do, i know i do.

and when the night is over,
the warmth of the hotel sheets will feel alive,
hugging us and biting into our skin, devouring our fatigue, swallowing our exhausion.

but unlike you, my body, leaving your obligatory finger stains,
when we wake in the morning, i will leave no trace of myself behind.

18

dear sleep,

i've missed you.

while you were gone, i forgot what the sky looked like when it was not dotted with yellow sparks.
i forgot the smell of fresh morning air
and the taste of dew
and the feeling of cold wind prying my eyelids open.

i love you and have mistreated you,
please never ever leave me again.

17

i think you're bitter, maybe.
one day i'm going to write a song for you
about all the love you hold in your limbs,

you're so beautifully tragic.

16

the only reason i'm ok with all of this
is because i never really fell too deep into you.

i don't remember the smell of your room
or even the colour of your eyes.

you didn't even make me feel that familiar emptiness in my head,
constantly begging to be filled..
(i know you know this feeling.
you must know this feeling.)

so it's ok, take it easy,
unbend and unwind like a decrescendo.

maybe it's not ok for me to say "pushing me out of your life!"
but i'll say it, because i'm interested in you
and i think we'd be good friends,
now that we're less uncomfortable.

you know that it would be great, you know it!
just lazing around all day..
i'd fill up my beer bottle with tap water over the sink,
just sitting around and listen to music,
throwing cereal into our mouths and talking into the night,
with the c.n tower spraying light all over us.

15

i can't feel my fingers and toes but,
oh darling,
what a great life i have.

14

i smelled the familiar scent of the dufferin 29 buses for the first time today,
in more than a month
and right away my memory was triggered of that time i was stuck in traffic,
2 hours late for my violin lesson
but not caring and not feeling anything except my burning fingertips;
the nerves confused from the sudden warmth away from the glamorous january wind.

i don't miss home until i get here,
i don't miss my parents until i see them,
and it's almost always the scents that bring me right back here where i belong.


i love you, parkdale.
even in my death, i'll ask for you to never change.

13: sorry that this entry sucks

it's so early, but my mind is so clear.
i have been awake for so long,
just like the world, its eyes open for centuries, overlooking mountains grow.

right now, at this moment, i feel so grateful that i exist.
the world is full of so many things: objects, souls,
so many cars to drive and papers to rip and
hearts to wreck but it's ok because it's all so pretty.

i'll find it, beauty i mean,
in a child's toothache
a drop of a single grain of sand
the sound of a lover smiling
the feeling of cement, sliding harshly against my face.

it'll be ok.
why? because i have a great weekend lined up
and the best friends in the world to spend it with.

i'm glad i met each and every one of you.

everything happens for a reason, and i'm honestly glad this was sooner than later,
but please, i hope you still invite me to play music with you.

12

i thought i'd write to steal you,
but who am i kidding?
i'm no writer, i'm no artist,
i'm only seventeen.

i'm only a girl;
i was born to be broken.

so i went downstairs and walked around the street, glasses off, stared at my white breath like a stranger.

walked and walked for half an hour,
in jogging shorts and yellow sweater.

in the streets, nobody knows my name
and nobody can see inside my chest
and nobody can see my shame.

i wish i were in seattle,
because there, the rain understands me
and understands what i mean
when i tell it to wash away everything.

11

i don't understand.
but even now, all i want to do is hold your hand,
and sit in silence...


and i'd compare the buzzing of your computer and our unassuming and gentle breaths
to the sound of that crane turning
a full 360 degrees.

and to the sound of wind pushing against my window,
in an airplane on the way to seattle.

(you make me feel like winter in seattle)

but those sounds, accompanied by the soundtrack of our lives will follow us when we sleep,
and will be engraved into our minds like a tattoo,
as we walk and walk and walk an infinite miles
to that lonely, rainy city i wish i could call home.
i'd hold your hand forever.

but what are the chances, right?
this makes me incredibly sad.

10

woke up at 11,
then again at 2.

goodbye moon
goodbye stars

i'm waking up to the rain for a change.

09

another sleepless, lonely night.

08

i drove for so long the other day, you know
in circles around and around and around in the parking lot.

a crystal castles remix booming.
children watching, fingers locked in those of a parent.

left turn, right turn
forwards, backwards.
i couldn't even breathe.


and out i went onto the street where i was camouflaged by other drivers,
onto the street where i barely existed.

a black mercedes passed me, and i remember this because
it was brand new, and one that i've always liked to look at
and exactly 2 minutes later (it felt longer), a billion cars passed me at the same time and right then i realized my insignificance and
i felt like sobbing.

07

everything was backwards today.
we sat in the same spot, drawing our hearts out.

everything backwards.

i hit my head on the table too many times tonight,
and from the taste in my mouth, maybe bit my tongue too many times tonight.
but at least around a half hour ago
i saw, in the sky, the clouds you talked about.



it's a little bit sad
and a little bit lonely
when i realize i still can't sleep alone.
"but it's ok," i know i'll say,
"at least i've got warmth".